


Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

by Relvich



Series: The Blue 'Verse [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Look!, M/M, Sad and Sweet, Wow!, a bit of a quarrel, anyway, but still nice, nice, ooo look, that's a tag, the boys can communicate!, there's fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9416177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvich/pseuds/Relvich
Summary: Propriety is overrated. Draco feels this with all his heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BluepPenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluepPenguin/gifts).



Draco hated those stuffy formal gatherings.

He was good at them, sure. He’d been taught proper etiquette since he _could_ be taught. He’d been used as a puppet to make his family look _good_ and _proper_ since he was a toddler. He knew the ins and outs of political conversation better than the back of his hand.

But he hated them just the same. It didn’t matter if he was prepared for them or not, that wasn’t the point.

At first, he hated them because they made him feel like a doll, nothing but a porcelain shell of his real self. One shan’t show all too much emotion at the table, and if you’ve strong opinions? Forget it, ‘argument’ wasn’t polite, and how dare you offend your great-great relative so-and-so, or mr-important-politician over there?

For these reasons, he had hated them even before he and Harry had become an ‘item’, but now he had many more. Now, he also hated them because they made Harry put on The Mask again. The one that he had worn all throughout his school years, the one that hid away his wonderful uniqueness and eccentricity. The one that _screamed_ normalcy, the one that discouraged all human contact outside those he trusted, those he _really trusted._

Of course, Drake was counted among those few nowadays. But it reminded him of times prior, and it wasn’t ever pleasant.

And because of all this (and …other things), Draco hadn’t been home to the Manor for Christmas or New Years for a long, long while. And he was content (more than content, really) to keep it that way. For good. He didn’t want to step foot on those grounds ever again.

But when has his life ever been easy like that?

“You _what?”_ Draco ripped a hand through his shorn-short hair.

“I invited the Malfoys over for dinner, and they want us over instead. I told them not on Eve, since we have that thing with the eighth year crew, and they said that was fine, if we went on New Year’s Day instead.” Harry was acting rather nonchalant about this whole ordeal; he even had the audacity to twirl his falcon-feather quill in his fingers, which Drake thought contrasted fairly nicely with how he was on the verge of— not panicking. Was that fear? Huh.

He decided to go with irritation. Irritation’s good.

"And you decided to do this _without asking me first?”_

“Well, yeah. You’d say no. Forgiveness, not permission, love.”

Sometimes, Draco forgot that his boyfriend was just as much a Slytherin as he was. He really ought make more of an effort to remember.

“—So I figured at least one of us should have a full set of parents.”

Draco hadn’t even noticed that Potter was still speaking, but the last tail end of the sentence he _had_ caught made his blood run cold and his magic positively _vibrate_ with anger.

“There’s a difference, my dear Potter, between your Savior parents and mine. My parents were _Death Eaters._ My parents hosted _parties_ in which the main activities were _torture. My parents let me become branded cattle of the Dark Lord,_ and I was _perfectly happy_ without seeing them _ever again!”_

Harry, in the midst of this tirade, went completely still. He waited patiently for Draco to finish, and when he finally had, he let out only one syllable.

“Done?” It was uttered in a dangerously soft voice, one that made Malfoy immediately straighten. He was an Auror, after all: a soldier. And while he had never served under Harry in ‘times prior’, he knew the voice of a general when he heard it. He nodded.

“Good.” Harry went back to his relaxed slouch, and his quirked and easy smile returned, though with a grimace-like twist. “I _know_ they hurt you, love. I’m aware. But _I_ hurt you too, and look where we are now!” he gestured wildly around their shared flat. “I know that what they did couldn’t, maybe even _shouldn’t_ be forgiven. It sure as hell shouldn’t be _forgotten._ And if you were any less of the man you are, I wouldn’t even ask you to try.”

Draco slumped a bit, after that. How could Harry make _anything_ sound reasonable, admirable, even? It was honestly _so_ not fair, in every way. He leaned into Harry’s open and inviting arms, and Potter then maneuvered them both onto their favorite powder-blue couch.

“…Okay.” He finally mumbled to Harry’s flannel-clad chest.

“And remember, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay.”

“And if it gets _too_ fancy, I’ll kick up the party a few notches.”

“Okay.”

“And—”

“Okay, okay!” Drake swatted at Harry’s arms, laughing. And they just lay there for a while, recuperating from so many moments of emotional strain. And when Draco was just nodding off, he heard a murmur at the crown of his head.

“And always remember that I love you.”

With these most comforting words, the Dragon drifted off to sleep, reassured: his lion was keeping watch, after all. No one could get to him, now. And to those who thought different… well…

Merlin help the fool who tickled the sleeping dragon.

**Author's Note:**

> whoooooooooaaaa look who's back  
> alright, now that I have my life together again, I'm updating this on Saturdays! (sorry, can't manage daily anymore.)  
> that being said, hope you enjoyed!  
> Rel out.


End file.
